


Between Love-Soaked Arms

by snafumoofins



Category: Preacher (Comics), Preacher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Multi, The Unholy Trinity - Freeform, a wee bit of, followed by fuckin cute, not a ton of porn but a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snafumoofins/pseuds/snafumoofins
Summary: Cassidy's been roaming the world for one-hundred-and-nineteen years, but in all those years, he's never seen two human beings with the connection Jesse Custer and Tulip O'Hare share. Nor has he yearned so badly to be apart of it.





	

Of all his hundred and nineteen years of living, Cassidy has never witnessed something as holy and pure as the connection that Jesse Custer and Tulip O’Hare share.

They’ve known each other since they were weens, or so he’s heard from Emily, and all Cassidy can imagine is a young Tulip (full of fire and spit with blazing eyes) and a young Jesse right behind her (cautious and wary with calculating eyes).

In a way, he wishes he could’ve seen them, seen the schoolyard fights Tulip reminisces on, but those memories are one of the many things he’ll never be able to share with them.

They’re a singular human being sometimes, he feels. He’s never seen such a _spark_ between two people, such a fluid way of _being,_ coexisting.

As much as they blow smoke, they’re both so damnably fragile sometimes that it breaks his cold, shriveled heart.

Cassidy wants to find the people who’ve hurt them, who evoke those moments from them where they think he isn’t looking, where their faces are raw, anguished.

If he hadn't speculated on these similarities previously, he would've come to the realization that they're both birds of a feather via sex. 

Cassidy’s always stood firmly by the quote he’s invented himself (the shite should be engraved on a statue of him someday): “Sex is a mirror to the soul; a sweaty mirror that sometimes moans like a feckin’ banshee.”

Quite often, Tulip is a cruel, cruel mistress in the sheets (or the gas-station restroom) and he’s wholly her dog (Iggy Pop knew what he was singing about and Cassidy knows he's always favored the bloke for more than his similar, bony body). Jesse is often reduced to all but  _panting_ for her touch too, but Jesse fights back, Jesse knows he can get away with it (Cassidy would get the ever-loving _shite_ whooped from him). 

When she wants him, she _takes_ him, dragging red lines down the pale canvas of his bony back with her nails, slinging her legs around his shoulders or his hips like a vice and huskily telling him, in a voice that has him keening, what she wants.

Though sometimes, _sometimes,_ she becomes soft like putty. She curls up with him in bed and spoons him so gently that his entire being _aches_ for more, murmuring soft praise in his ear that makes him _feel_ like he _is_ worth praise. She hugs him when he’s been away to buy fags like she’s truly missed him, plays with his hair until he’s drooling on her lap.

She’s like night-and-day with her lust and her affection, though Jesse’s a wildcard.

Sometimes, he’ll needily _strive_ for Cassidy, look at him with those intoxicating big puppy eyes and _nuzzle_ against his thighs. Cassidy can have him hard in seconds from a mere command, can push his fingers in his hot mouth and receive immediate attention. He likes to be the little spoon, he likes to buck his pert arse up against Cassidy’s morning wood and initiate sleepy, languid fucking.

But sometimes he’ll grab Cassidy’s hair _hard,_ pull him down to the apex of his thighs and tell him in his heavily accented voice: “Suck.”

Either way, he’s either got Cassidy hard enough to cut fucking glass or content enough to proclaim that he’s the cat with the bloody cream.

Either way for both of them, really.

Still, Cassidy yearns. He wishes he could have what they have _with_ them. Wishes that when they sleepily murmur “I love you,” to one another, that _he_ could tell them he loves them too (because he fucking well _does_ ).

That night, in a stale-smelling motel room of whatever, dead town they’ve looked for God in, after Tulip’s simultaneously sucked Custer off and jerked Cassidy off while sitting on the greedy vampire’s face, Cassidy sits up after she dismounts, wiping his slick lips on his arm.

He watches Tulip reach for Jesse's face with her heavy-lidded, tired eyes, pulling his lips (that’d previously been pursed in an “o” as he’d come in her mouth) to her lips, kissing him for what felt like minutes before pulling back, mumbling a sleepy: “I love you.”

Jesse echoes her, runs his calloused fingers through her hair.

Cassidy waits, patiently, for them to get under the covers so he can join them, but is confused as Tulip turns to him, gesturing for him to come closer.

She looks over his face, which he knows is entirely slack and dumbfounded as she touches his cheeks, pulls him closer until her plush lips are against his. He can taste the faint traces of her lipstick and Jesse’s cock on her, can feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer.

Tulip pulls back and smiles faintly. “We love you too,” she tells him and he feels his long-dried tearducts squeak to life, threatening to show how fucking long he’s been deprived of this.

“We do,” Jesse echoes, and compliantly, Cassidy allows his face to be gripped in the preacher’s big hands. Jesse’s chapped lips scour Cassidy’s,  the vampire's heart filling with life, his body thrumming with _love_. “Love you, I mean,” Jesse grins sheepishly as he pulls back, and Cassidy realizes Tulip’s been rubbing his back as Jesse kissed him, _comforting_ him.

“I love yins too,” he chokes out, too weak to hide the emotion swarming his body.

They take care of him, though, _fucking fantastic_ good care of him and if the sex and his tendency to people-watch hadn’t shown him what a mirror they are of one another, their work now did. Without a single word between them, Tulip shifted to Cassidy, pulled him close and let him rest his temple against her shoulder as Jesse moved to draw the covers down.

Tulip shifted and Jesse patted to the space beside him, already reclining in bed and Cassidy complied like a man crawling towards an oasis in the barren heat.

Jesse’s arms wrapped around him and distantly, Cassidy felt the covers drawing over them.

Soon enough, he felt a body press to his back. Tulip slid her arms around his waist, Jesse’s circled around his chest and for once, Cassidy realized, he’d been raw, emotional, _open_ , and nobody’d hit him over the head with a rolled up newspaper for it.

Here, between Jesse Custer and Tulip O’Hare, he was accepted.

Here, he was loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to prompt for more at gxnsandtxlips.tumblr.com


End file.
